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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23639476">And I Can Still See it All (In My Mind)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/iliveinfantasies/pseuds/iliveinfantasies'>iliveinfantasies</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>So Cut the Headlights, Summer's a Knife: or, the Great Grand Summer Camp AU, and its Extra Ficlets [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AvaLance, Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/F, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Gen, Nyssara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:27:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>876</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23639476</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/iliveinfantasies/pseuds/iliveinfantasies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a series of drabbles/ficlets/chapters, idk, that go with my Avalance Summer Camp AU fic, Is It Too Soon To Do This Yet? Cause I Know That it's Delicate.</p>
<p>I'm writing it by request: some people were curious to see the relationship between Nyssa and Sara, amongst other, separate little stories in that verse, and I have some exceedingly painful ones. So, here we are!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nyssa al Ghul/Sara Lance, Sara Lance/Ava Sharpe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>So Cut the Headlights, Summer's a Knife: or, the Great Grand Summer Camp AU, and its Extra Ficlets [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701658</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>And I Can Still See it All (In My Mind)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This one is a Nyssara(ish) fic, and is the lead-up to their It also features some Zari, and gives Sara a very familiar nickname...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>p.s. comments and kudos are always very welcome. I don't know if people actually want to read this, I'm just kind of hoping, and figured I'd post it. Also, come visit me on Tumblr at iliveinfantasylife. I love meeting new people, and I love when people come and yell at me about how mean I am ;). Love you all!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The kick had been a magnificent one, truly, if a bit overzealous. Even Sara had to admit that. But it had also been magnificently </span>
  <em>
    <span>misaimed,</span>
  </em>
  <span> which is what put Sara here now, jogging toward the edge of a dense clump of bushes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dammit, Z,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sara muttered to herself, cursing as she kneeled down to crawl through the wall of leaves and branches surrounding the dusty, patchy stretch of lawn that Zari and Sara used as a soccer field.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was an </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual </span>
  </em>
  <span>field at camp, of course, but it was usually overcrowded with groups of campers playing capture the flag, exasperated pairs of counselors attempting to get a break, and stacks and stacks of craft supplies. So Sara and Zari had decided, sometime halfway through last summer, that they needed a space to use for their bi-weekly scrimmage. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t perfect, but it far beat the alternative, most of the time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except for times like now. When Zari chose to show off, in her words, her “super soccer skillz,” (“yes, with a ‘z,’ Cap. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Embrace</span>
  </em>
  <span> the z), and kicked the ball as hard as she could--in the wrong direction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I swear,” she murmured, yanking back leaves. “You’d never know that Zari was actually on the team at times like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She emerged from the bushes to find herself on the archery range, empty but for a single girl on the far end. She was staring at Sara with an amused air, holding a rather impressive looking wooden bow in one hand, and Sara’s rogue soccer ball in the other. Sara sighed, again, slapping a somewhat apologetic look on her face as she jogged over to the figure, reaching out her hands as she ran.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know,” the girl said in a mock-serious voice, eyes glittering obsidian with mirth, “I’m fairly sure that a whole other sports field counts as ‘out of bounds.’”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sara’s face fell into a crooked grin. “Tell that to Zari,” she retorted, pulling the ball from her co-counselor’s arms, and tucking it under her own. She glanced around the archery range, an unexpected warmth overtaking her stomach. Since she’d started her twice-weekly archery lessons with Nyssa, Sara felt almost as at home on the archery range as she did on the soccer field.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yo, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cap,</span>
  </em>
  <span> did you--” came Zari’s voice as she pushed her own way through the bushes and onto the archery range, water bottle in hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Love to, Cap,” mumbled Zari around the pull-top of her water bottle, yanking it open with her teeth. “But I promised Amaya I wouldn’t leave her by herself with the campers too long. Not all of us are lucky enough to have Rip in charge of our group this afternoon.” She downed several long gulps of water before adding, “Plus, I smell like ass, and really need a shower.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sara snorted. “Thanks for the description, Z.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zari grinned and winked at Sara, “Anytime, Cap,” she said cheerily, before taking off down the path.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guess it’s just us, then,” said Sara, bumping her elbow against Nyssa’s arm. Then, she glanced down at the ball in her hands and frowned. “Oh, wait, fuck,” she sighed. “This is Zari’s ball. Hold on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She took off running down the path, dirt flying up around her dirty sneakers, coating her legs in dust. Her breathing settled easily into a steady rhythm, ponytail flying behind her, heart beating in time with her steps. She adored running, loved the rough feel of the wind eddying around her skin. She easily overtook Zari’s walking form in a matter of minutes, and passed off the ball, before jogging easily back to where Nyssa was waiting on the archery range.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know,” said Nyssa, lightly, as they began their walk back through the short stretch of woods to their cabin, “You look like a bird when you run.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sara raised an eyebrow, picking her way around a rather dense clump of what she hoped was muddy leaves. “A bird, is it? An awkward, sweaty, dusty bird with a ball and a ponytail?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A smile played around the edges of Nyssa’s lips, and she stopped walking, propping her hands on her hips. Sara stopped, too, eyebrow still raised, and propped her own hands on her hips in an imitation of Nyssa. Nyssa let out a light laugh; a short, tinkly thing, that rang like bells in Sara’s ears, sending a surge of warmth down her spine. A hesitant smile played around her own lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” said Nyssa, slowly, calmly, eyes crinkling with amusement. “Like one of those pretty yellow birds. You know,” she added, more softly, reaching out a hand to gently cup a loose strand of Sara’s hair in her palm. “Blonde, too, like you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sara wrinkled her nose, trying not to focus too hard on the burning beginning in her stomach, the rhythm beating static in her chest; a rhythm she was fairly sure had nothing to do with exercise, anymore. “A </span>
  <em>
    <span>canary</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you mean?” she asked Nyssa, witheringly, and Nyssa nodded, seemingly unperturbed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nyssa’s smile grew softer, wider, as she met Sara’s eyes intently with her own, a warmth rising lightly to Sara’s cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Nyssa said, voice quiet and still and clear, like the air after a storm. “Like a canary.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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